Herbology and Horcruxes
by mandodaisy012
Summary: It's the first day of Betula Hawthorne's new position as Hogarts' new Herbology co-professor. Dealing with numerous conflicting emotions, we shall see how her day plays out.


Chapter One

Ten years have passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and it's been five since I last stepped foot in the castle. Though the repairs have been made, the building still bears the scars of that day. I was only 12 then, a second year Ravenclaw who'd been evacuated during the chaos. I hadn't seen much, thankfully, but I'd heard all the stories. And today was my first day working with him. _Him._ The boy -no the man- who rose up in defiance of the Dark Lord and destroyed the final horcrux. I can picture it even now, this fearful, terrified boy exuding true courage enough to bring down the sword of Gryffindor on Nagini's head. _Neville._ His name made my throat catch every time. Even in eighth year, when I'd had to call him "Professor Longbottom", the name drove me mad. I couldn't say exactly when my admiration began to become attraction, but today was the first of many where I'd have to face it head on. "Keep your cool, Bet" I thought to myself, "you can do this."

As I strode through the corridors toward the Herbology department, I reassured myself once again that this was really happening. I, Betula Hawthorne, was going to be the co-professor for the Hogwarts Herbology department. Attendence had skyrocketed here about a year after the Second Wizard War ended, and Headmistress McGonagall had seen for to hire on co professors for every department to compensate. I could hardly believe I'd gotten the job! Even this morning, my mother had had to say to me, "Birchy, this is what you were made to do, you'll be spectacular." She went on to remind me just how long I'd loved plants and how well they did under my care. And as I walked along our lane, I swear I could hear my father saying "Knock em dead, little Shillelagh!"

My father had been an administrator at Saint Mungo's for as long as I could remember. He had the biggest heart full of compassion, and worked tirelessly to ensure his charges had the best lives they could. And that's where he was taken from me; doing everything he could to protect the residents from the Death Eaters. Voldemort, at the time, had begun a purging of any wizard he deemed unworthy. And not just Muggleborns either, he exacted this vile "cleansing" on Squibs, the physically handicapped, and the mentally ill. The morning my father died, several Death Eaters had been dispatched to Saint Mungo's, with every intention of razing it and all its inhabitants to the ground. However, my father and his employees were not about to let that happen. Many well laid counter curses, disorientation spells, and intense duels later, Saint Mungo's was safe. The Death Eaters had all been driven off or killed, the residents were all accounted for and largely unharmed. The staff were battered and exhausted, but alive. My father was the only one MIA, all they could find of Lochlan Hawthorne were the splintered remains of his hawthorn Shillelagh wand staff. He had been dueling the lead Death Eater, whose body was recovered, but no one seems to know what happened to him.

Lost in thought, I finally found myself in the Herbology wing. Absentmindedly, I opened the first door to my right, expecting to enter my professor's quarters. However, I realized my error when I ran smack into aNeville Longbottom, pulling one of his signature sweaters over his head. He turned on his heel and I froze, unable to even stammer out an explanation or apology. I could feel the heat rising in my face, but could not compose myself to do anything about it. The awkward silence was finally broken by his laughter, gentle and friendly; "I believe you belong next door" he said with a smile that was pure sunshine "you must be Ms. Hawthorne." " You can call me Birch-I mean Betula" I answered in a wavering voice. "Betula Hawthorne, I don't think there's ever been a more appropriate name for a Herbology professor in the history of Hogwarts. I think we'll get along perfectly." I smiled and extended my hand, which he shook firmly. "It's good to meet you Professor, it'll be an honor to work with you." "You may call me Neville, and the honor is all mine I'm sure. Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way, do you need any help moving your belongings into your new home?"

He was exactly as I thought he'd be, and yet so much more, unspeakably kind and immeasurably patient, he helped make quick work of moving me in. After we'd finished, he invited me to tea and to go over the lesson plans for the first week. Term didn't begin for five more days, but it was clear he wanted to be prepared. And I didn't mind that one bit. Sitting in his study, which was tidy and unassuming much like himself, we pored over color coded and expertly organized plans for the coming week. "Oh I'm so excited to teach our first years all the 'muggle' plants, they're my favorite!" I remarked. "Muggle plants? What do you mean?" His eyes found mine and shot an inquisitive look. "You know dittany, hellabore, mandrake, belladonna; they're all plants that muggle botanists study too. I hope we have some muggleborn students, they're so amazed when they realize plants they've heard of all their lives are magic too! You know, my grandmother Iona Hawthorne was quite a renown muggle botanist in her time, that's how she met my grandfather, Ernest. He was a gardener who curated many of the horticultural supplies for the apothecary in Diagon Alley. My grandmother was so fascinated by his curious plants, she spent many days in his greenhouses studying them. And I suppose the rest in history."

Snapping back to reality, I was struck by the embarrassing thought that I had been nattering on for ages. "I'm so sorry for talking your ear off Neville, I just get so excited and then easily carried away." I buried my burning face in my arms. He lightly touched my shoulder and I looked up from my embarrassment. "It's quite alright, I assure you Bet-may I call you Bet? It's actually quite refreshing to hear someone speak so passionately about plants; it's obvious you love Herbology as much as I do." He smiled another sunshine smile, so adorably crooked that it made me forget why I was ever embarrassed to talk freely to him. "What about your parents?" he continued, "are they herbologists as well?" "I'm afraid the love of the botanical world skips a generation. My parents are much more...people-minded. My mother, Dorinda, she's a social worker in the Ministry of Magic. She fights to reunite families and protect children. She's a lioness-that's her Patronus by the way-for certain, and she does a lot of good. My father, Lochlan, he was the administrator of Saint Mungo's until he was murdered during the Second Wizard War...he was a huge advocate for the mentally ill and injured, worked so hard to give them the respect and quality of life they deserved. So many of his residents came to need Saint Mungo's protecting the wizarding world from the forces of darkness. It was my father's mission to make sure they knew they had preserved the light. He died protecting that self same mission ten years ago and I miss him every day..."

I trailed off, not knowing what to say next. I knew I'd talked myself into an uncomfortable place for the both us. "Oh why can I never keep my mouth shut?!" I wondered furiously. Tears were brimming in my eyes and I wondered if I'd be able to make it out of the study without breaking down. I stood to my feet and made for the door as gracefully as I could when, once again, I was frozen in place by a single word. "Lochlan." he said in barely a whisper. "You're Lochlan's daughter?" I turned to see his calm demeanor crumbling, giving way to a bleary eyed mask that I suspected to be a mirror of my own. "H-He..." his voice faltered, "he's the reason I'm able to hear my mother say my name again...he is...was...a great man..." That was all he could manage before tears began to stream down his cheek, tears I desperately longed to wipe away, but I could no longer hold back the ones in my own eyes. We stood for a long moment, each lost in our silent sobs, until he excused himself with simply, "You may go."


End file.
